The Home Of The Holmes Brothers
by What's'SupWitChu
Summary: After the tragic death of their parents Mycroft becomes the legal guardian of 16 year old Sherlock. Together they must accept their parent's fate and learn to live together. These are some of the key moments and how they affect their relationship. Just brotherly love!
1. Chapter 1: Moving In

**A/N: People of earth, good day to you all! I just can't stop writing at the moment and I hope you aren't getting sick of me yet. So, yet another story about the Holmes brothers appears *Gasp*. This story is non-canon and will explore the brother's relationship when Sherlock goes to live with Mycroft after their parent's deaths. **

**There won't necessarily be a firm plot line I don't think, just a mixture of angsty; fluffy and domestic chapters because I just love to write about these two XD There will be OOCness throughout to pre-warn you all, although I hope you enjoy it!**

**Trigger Warning: Minor Characters Deaths**

**Reviews would be loved :) xx**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Moving In**

The atmosphere in the cab was silent and tense. Mycroft sat, straight postured as ever holding his umbrella in his lap; although his grip may have been a little tighter than usual. Sherlock sat next to his brother staring out the window, but not really concentrating on the world which rushed by him.

They were on their way to Mycroft's flat, well, _their_ flat; Sherlock was about to take up permanent residence there too. The brothers had just been to their parent's funeral and so neither of them quite knew what to say to the other as they had never been much of an affectionate family.

Violet and Siger Holmes had died in a car accident not a week earlier, and so now everything had changed for the Holmes brothers. Though Sherlock was 16 and thrived in making his own decisions and insisting he did not need to be 'babied', he was still in school and needed a legal guardian until he was 18. Mycroft had of course offered right away (well it was never just an offer, he would make sure it happened), even though he was only 23 years of age.

The news of their parents' death had been a terrible shock, but the Holmes brothers were not ones to take other peoples' condolences to mean anything or outwardly express their grief. That was of course not to say they did not love their parents, but they had been raised to believe that when bad things happen, life goes on and the past was not something to be dwelled on.

They had picked up the remainder of Sherlock's things after the service and had been forced to say goodbye to their childhood home. Although Mycroft would inherit it, he felt it would be too painful to hold on to without their family to fill it anymore. When they had locked the door for the last time, Mycroft could have sworn he heard Sherlock sniff, but the younger brother had ducked his head and rubbed his eyes. Mycroft wished he could be more consoling, but it would not really be in either of their natures.

Once they arrived at Mycroft's flat, the elder brother paid the cab driver and carried the last box of Sherlock's things into the flat; Sherlock silently insisted on hanging onto the case which carried his violin himself. Mycroft's flat was on the ground floor and was very wooden, the decor expressing his unusual taste. It was nowhere near as homely as the house with their parents, but Mycroft had thought it would only ever be him living there.

"Your room is this way" the older Holmes said and Sherlock followed him down the hall.

The younger Holmes had only visited his brother once or twice before, mainly when he needed somewhere quite to think. He knew Mycroft would not interrupt him or even try and engage him in conversation for just randomly turning up at his doorstep; the brothers had never seen need for such pleasantries.

"It's quite plain, but I suppose we could decorate it to suit you more if you would like?" Mycroft suggested once they reached the room. He wanted his brother to feel comfortable. He had always felt an unquantifiable amount of responsibility towards Sherlock, and he supposed that was truer than ever now.

Sherlock shrugged in response and Mycroft frowned concernedly; the younger Holmes was yet to say a word since the funeral. "I'll go make some tea, leave you to unpack your things" Mycroft said, deciding privacy was maybe what Sherlock needed right now.

The older Holmes sighed as he left the room; he could already tell he was not cut out to be a parent, but he supposed he didn't have to be, just so long as he could step out of his comfort zone for now and be there for Sherlock, they would be okay.

As Mycroft busied himself making tea - more for the distraction rather than to quench his thirst - he heard the low sombre notes of Sherlock playing his violin. Mycroft tried to ignore the light shakiness of his hands as he stirred the sugar in the cups, but eventually he had to sit down at the kitchen table and bury his head in his hands with despair.

He would not cry; he refused to; he had to stay strong for Sherlock's sake. He just wished he had made more of an effort to see his parents and his brother the past few years. He wished he knew what to do to make things right, but for once he was at a loss and the events were out of his control.

Eventually, the music faded away and Mycroft took the interval as a chance to take in the tea. When he arrived, Sherlock was curled up on his side on the bed, his eyes glistening but the tears were yet to fall. Mycroft set the tea down on the side table before turning to his brother.

"What would you like for dinner?" The older brother asked.

"I'm not hungry" Sherlock mumbled with a sniff.

"You need to eat" Mycroft said seriously, though he did not exactly have an appetite himself at that moment in time. "I'm going to take care of you, Sherlock" he added just as factually.

"You shouldn't have to" Sherlock said with a shaky voice "it's not fair. Mummy and Father are gone and…it's just not fair!" He turned away then and wiped his eyes with heavy breaths - he was ashamed of himself for losing control in front of Mycroft.

"Sherlock..." Mycroft said gently as he lay down next to his brother - it was an uncommon sign of affection, but perhaps they both needed it even if they didn't quite know it. "I'm having a hard time believing it too, the world can be so cruel, but Mummy and Father would not want us to give in; they raised us stronger than that. It's me and you against the world now, and I think we could actually survive this without ripping each other's heads off."

Sherlock let out the slightest hint of laughter before turning to face his brother again. There were streaks running down his cheeks and Mycroft had to try really hard to keep himself composed at the sight of his distraught little brother, but even the Holmes brothers needed to grieve after such a huge loss.

"We'll be okay?" Sherlock asked as he wiped his eyes.

"We'll be okay" Mycroft replied with a light smile.

To his surprise Sherlock moved across the bed so he was pressed up against his brother's chest and buried his face in Mycroft's neck. The last time Sherlock had sought such contact with his brother was when he was very young and had a nightmare, but then Mycroft supposed the teenager must feel like he was in a living nightmare right now; he sure did.

"We'll be okay" Mycroft said again as he nuzzled his nose into the top of Sherlock's curly hair "I promise"

The brothers remained like that until they eventually fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2: Fight

**A/N: So sorry I haven't updated this one, I've been working on another million stories, but I've finally gotten around to it. Luckily I've managed to write the majority of future chapters so the wait won't be nearly as long next time. I've hopefully got some exciting and feely stuff coming up for you ;) I will say there is likely to be OOCness throughout this story, so be warned. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

**Thanks for reading and reviews are appreciated :) xx**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Fight **

At the time Mycroft was working as a personal assistant to a government official, but he had been tipped for a big promotion very soon. His employer was a kindly elder man - not like a stereotypical politician - who despite Mycroft's young age believed he was ready for greater work.

Mycroft still had a busy work schedule, though, and very rarely saw Sherlock on weekdays. He always left before Sherlock had to be up for school, and he usually got home way after Sherlock too. He made the effort to make evening meals so that they could sit together, but even then talk on Sherlock's part was very minimal.

However, one evening Mycroft managed to escape his daily grind much earlier than usual so the elder Holmes decided he would go and pick Sherlock up from school. There was no doubt the younger Holmes would be annoyed and more than likely embarrassed, but Mycroft didn't care; what were big brothers for? He was permitted to have some fun every once in a while.

When Mycroft pulled up at the school he was intrigued by a group of students huddled in a circle outside the entrance. They were laughing and cheering and a few even appeared to be making bets. Mycroft rolled his eyes, although he was perhaps a little amused - he would recognise the signs of a schoolyard fight anywhere.

Mycroft stepped out of the car to have a better look, wondering where the members of authority were and if he should go and inform someone.

He spotted a slight parting in the crowd and the brawling pair of boys soon came into view. Mycroft frowned as he noticed a blur of black curls and a slender body spool across the ground.

The elder Holmes had a deep sinking feeling as he hurried over to the crowd and pushed his way to the front. Mycroft's eyes widened at the sight of his little brother rolling around on the floor sporting a bust lip and a black eye. He was scraping with another boy his age who Sherlock managed to overpower and was throwing a few punches of his own.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft exclaimed as he rushed forward and prised his brother away.

"Ha, do you always need you brother to keep you inline Holmes?" The other boy taunted despite being just as bloody and still on the ground.

Sherlock growled almost like a wild animal and tried to struggle his way out of Mycroft's arms, but the elder Holmes held strong and started to drag his brother away.

"This isn't over" Sherlock said darkly as the other boy and his cronies laughed at him.

"Oh, it most certainly is" Mycroft muttered sternly in his ear. "Get in the car. Now."

He finally released his younger brother and Sherlock glared daggers at him as he brushed himself down indignantly, but Mycroft remained firm in his gaze and waited for Sherlock to unceremoniously drop beside him into the passenger seat.

The ride home was silent and tense. Sherlock was seething; his arms folded and posture slumped down in his seat with a childish pout. Mycroft didn't want to breach the subject until they returned home and he had d put a stop to any bleeding Sherlock was experiencing.

"Go and wait in the kitchen" Mycroft informed him once they arrived.

It was perhaps the fact that Sherlock knew he was going to be in enough trouble that he complied. Whilst Mycroft went to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit, the younger Holmes took up his sulking position at the kitchen table.

Mycroft started by dabbing some ointment on his brother's cuts- luckily none of which were bad enough to need stitches. Sherlock was yet to meet his gaze as he looked sullenly at the table top, kicking at the leg rhythmically with his foot.

"Would you care to tell me what that was all about?" Mycroft asked his tone more curious than angry.

"No, I would not care for that" Sherlock mumbled in response.

Mycroft sighed with exasperation - he should have known this wold be a fruitless crusade.

"Why did this fight start?" He tried again but this time Sherlock didn't even reply with a sarcastic comment. "Alright, fine." Mycroft said as he finished patching up Sherlock and stood up to further assert himself. "If you're going to act like a child then I shall treat you like one. No experiments for a fortnight."

Sherlock merely scoffed. "Don't be absurd."

"I am not one to jest and you know that." Mycroft said sternly. "I am your carer now and I shall punish you as I see fit!"

With that he stormed out of the room leaving Sherlock in a stunned silence. Mycroft went upstairs to replace the first aid-kit and then went to sit on his bed for a few moments to calm himself.

Mummy and father would have done the same thing right? He was right to punish Sherlock. The elder Holmes buried his face in his hands - he wished he could speak to them right now. Sherlock had only been living with him a couple of weeks and Mycroft was already struggling to cope, but he would never turn his little brother away and he would never give up on him.

"He said that Mummy and father probably killed themselves because they were ashamed to have a freak of a son like me."

Mycroft looked up to see Sherlock almost timidly standing in the doorway, unsure of what to do with himself.

"You know that not to be true." Mycroft said, but was concerned by his brother's lack of acknowledgment. "Sherlock?"

"Of course" Sherlock answered that time, but not with enough conviction to reassure Mycroft. "He was just being an idiot and I should have stopped myself but he just kept pushing and…" he looked away for a moment before he let the anger take control again.

"I know it's hard. You cannot fight with words when idiots are concerned." Mycroft said. "However, you are right; stooping to that level is not wise. I am glad you realise that. Mummy and Father raised us better than that."

Sherlock nodded, and then the ghost of a mischievous smile appeared across his face. "I suppose with you finishing the job of raising I have no chance."

Mycroft couldn't help but smile slightly despite the jibe – he knew it was just Sherlock's way of teasing.

"We'll see." Mycroft quipped before turning serious again. "You still don't get your experiments."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3: The First Time

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews and follows! Like I said at the beginning there won't really be a main plot to this story but more a series of events about the Holmes' lives. I hope you enjoy this next instalment :)**

**Reviews would be wonderful xx**

* * *

**Chapter 3: The First Time **

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when Sherlock stumbled into their dark and silent flat. The door slammed shut behind him and he unnecessarily turned to 'shh' the source of noise.

He then attempted the stairs, misplacing his foot the first time and falling on top of them with a huff. It took another two minutes for Sherlock to pull himself together and make the ascent (which he could have sworn was a lot steeper than usual).

He staggered down to his bedroom, the hall distorted in his drug induced haze.

Sherlock's friend (and his only friend), Victor Trevor, had got hold of some cocaine from his cousin so he and Sherlock had spent the night calculating and then taking some of the powder. At first Sherlock had thought about what Mycroft would say, but sod Mycroft, Sherlock was 16 and old enough to make his own decisions.

He had enjoyed the initial release, the tingling feeling which had pulsed through his veins with a sense of elation. The world which normally appeared to move around Sherlock at a thousand miles an hour slowed down, and for once his mind felt almost empty instead of like it might burst. It was strangely soothing.

However, now he had returned home Sherlock was already starting to feel sick as the drugs prepared to leave his system. His vision was doubled and his head was pounding, and as Sherlock stumbled into his room the last thing he needed was to find Mycroft sat on his bed, eyebrow raised and arms crossed in a stern manner.

"Good evening, brother mine" the older Holmes spoke in a clam tone which Sherlock in fact knew oozed danger.

"Piss off, Mycroft" Sherlock mumbled as he walked around the other side of his double bed and lay down on it. He was feeling sick to his stomach and did not need to be lectured right then.

"I can still see traces of powder on your collar, Sherlock" Mycroft said as he stood up to assert his responsible role. "How can you be so stupid!?"

"Would you just leave?!" Sherlock yelled, but then winced when it made his head pound harder.

Mycroft sighed as he tried to stay calm. "Sherlock, you are sixteen years old..."

"Exactly, so why are you trying to dictate my life?" Sherlock replied and he spoke again before his mind even caught up with his mouth. "You can't tell me what to do, you are not dad!"

Mycroft looked speechless, something which Sherlock was not sure he had seen before. The younger Holmes almost felt guilty, and there was a tense minute of silence before Mycroft responded.

"No, you're right, I'm not" the elder Holmes said somewhat acceptably. "But I am trying my best to do right by you, Sherlock. I didn't think I would become a twenty three year old parent to a sixteen year old."

He tried to mask the emotion threatening to overtake him, but sometimes there was something about Sherlock which made Mycroft feel more vulnerable than he would ever like to be.

"Well neither did I" Sherlock mumbled in response and then turned away again to face the wall. He did not hear Mycroft move and so wondered for once if he was being too harsh on his brother. "Mycroft..." He turned back around but the older Holmes was already gone.

Sherlock spent the next 5 minutes trying to will the nausea to pass. He was surprised when Mycroft returned with a glass of water and a bucket.

"Here, drink this" he said as he handed the water to Sherlock, who sat up as soon as Mycroft entered the room. "This is here in case you get sick" the older brother added as he placed the bucket by the bed.

"I'm sorry, I... I know you're only doing what you think is best" Sherlock said in the most level voice he could manage.

"But you're not sorry for taking the drugs?" Mycroft asked as he sat at the chair by Sherlock's desk. Sherlock did not answer. "This has Victor written all over it anyway" he added darkly; Mycroft had always had a distinct disliking for Sherlock's friend.

"He didn't force me to" Sherlock said in Victor's defence. "I just wondered what it would be like and... Maybe for once it would slow me down, stop my head from feeling like it was going to explode. Maybe it could just….help me forget for a while."

"Well why didn't you tell me you felt that way instead of turning to drugs?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock shrugged "What could you have done?"

"Probably very little" Mycroft replied honesty "but you wouldn't be feeling so sick right now" he pointed out with a slightly amused smile.

"Well I'm glad my suffering brings you pleasure" Sherlock replied sarcastically.

"Oh don't be so melodramatic, brother mine" Mycroft said "why don't we do something to take your mind off it, hmm?"

"We could...maybe...play deductions" Sherlock mumbled a little embarrassedly; he didn't remember the last time they had had a game together.

"But I always win" Mycroft said smugly "and I'm at even more of an advantage since your brain is rather impaired at the moment."

"I don't care" Sherlock said "anything for a distraction."

And so the brothers played there game which caused a lot of conflict, but also brought up memories of bonding in hours of boredom.

Eventually, Sherlock fell asleep but Mycroft remained settled by his brother's bedside reading a book in case he was needed.

* * *

When Sherlock woke up it was light outside, but still early in the morning. He was surprised to find Mycroft still sat in the chair fast asleep.

Sherlock had always expected his brother to be as rigid when asleep as he was when awake, but Mycroft in fact had his limbs sprawled everywhere in a relaxed and somewhat childlike manner. Mycroft kept such a hard mask on during the day it was unusual for Sherlock to see him in such a pleasantly calm way rather than the calm before the storm.

He looked young. Too young. Sherlock suddenly felt a pang in his stomach and it was not because of the drugs. He knew this must be as hard on Mycroft as it was for him too, but it would not be like either of them to openly show defeat or vulnerability.

Mycroft was a 23 year old man who worked full time and lived with his little brother whom he was the legal guardian for. In that moment, Sherlock decided that although he could never tell Mycroft he was grateful; there were ways he could start to show it in his own subtle and personal fashion.

He started by getting up and throwing the blanket which he kept at the end of the bed haphazardly over Mycroft. It did not look like a potentially sentimental gesture, which was in fact what Sherlock was aiming for, but he knew Mycroft would appreciate it all the same.

After that Sherlock trudged downstairs to make breakfast, leaving his brother to his much deserved sleep.


	4. Chapter 4: Parents Evening

**A/N: Hello dearests! Here's another sort of standalone chapter in this story, I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for everyone who has read and commented so far!**

**Reviews are much loved :) xx**

* * *

"How was school?" Mycroft asked his brother as they sat having their evening meal together. The younger Holmes had been back at school for a month now.

"Dull, as always" Sherlock said as he pushed some peas around his plate. "It's full of brainwashed idiots, and that's just the teachers."

"I see" Mycroft mused. "So, I shouldn't be expecting good reports off them, hmm?"

Sherlock frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, it seems that you cannot be trusted to pass messages on to me, so I received a phone call from your tutor this afternoon to inform me it is parents evening this Friday."

"Oh for God..." Sherlock huffed as he threw his fork down and leaned back in his chair in a sulk. "I told her you wouldn't be interested!"

"On the contrary, I'm very interested" Mycroft replied. "You don't tell me anything so I might as well ask your teachers how you are faring."

"I'm faring just fine" Sherlock said bluntly. "I get the work done, the amount of fights I get into has significantly decreased, and I still have the tendency to correct teachers but it's their fault for being so stupid in the first place, there, you're up to speed."

Mycroft smirked. "Nice try, brother mine, but I'm still going."

Sherlock growled with frustration and folded his arms with a huff. "Why? You're my brother, not my parent."

"I'm you're legal guardian" Mycroft reminded him with a raised eyebrow. "I just want to know that you are doing your best in moving towards a healthy career and success in your exams, Sherlock, and that the school are treating you well too. I want to know if either you or them could risk your failure. I want you to do well."

Sherlock sniffed a little indignantly before picking up his fork again and actually taking a bite of food.

"Is that just so I'll leave the flat?" He mumbled.

Mycroft smiled amusedly. "That could be part of the reason."

"You'll be disappointed" Sherlock said, though he didn't much sound like he cared if that's what Mycroft would be or not.

"I'll decide that on Friday" Mycroft said.

Sherlock, for once, appeared defeated and so the brothers finished their meal in silence.

* * *

Friday arrived, and after a final attempt to dissuade Mycroft from going to the school, the older Holmes left with the younger sulking in his curled up position on the sofa.

Mycroft had not taken much notice of Sherlock before when he had said his teachers were idiots, but the elder Holmes soon found the majority of them truly were insufferable.

Sherlock's tutor and general studies teacher, Mrs Mayfair, was a middle aged woman who talked down to Mycroft like he was another one of her pupils.

She started saying how it must be hard for him being Sherlock's legal guardian when he was "almost still a boy himself" - Mycroft did not take too kindly to that, but he held his tongue and replied politely yes, it was difficult sometimes but they could handle it. She cooed over them a while longer before concluding that while Sherlock was a "sweet boy who meant well" he could also be a source of havoc.

Next was Mr - or Monsieur as he insisted upon - Levine, Sherlock's foreign languages teacher. He had said Sherlock had a tendency to show off, though Mycroft failed to see how being able to speak any language fluently was nothing but amicable. However, the teacher seemed to see it as Sherlock being cocky. Although Mycroft knew his brother was prone to such outbursts,he really felt like it was just Mr Levine trying to hold Sherlock back.

After also speaking to Sherlock's geography teacher - who said the younger Holmes' collaboration and communication skills was like talking to a brick wall - Mycroft was feeling a little exasperated. Yes, he understood Sherlock could be a nuisance, but he didn't feel like his brother was getting much support either. These people seemed too quick to judge him and could not accept Sherlock's brilliance for what it truly was. That saddened Mycroft a little.

The last person he had to see was Sherlock's chemistry professor, Dr Jenkins. He was an older man with a round face and a friendly smile; Mycroft could tell he was different from the others already.

"Hello, you must be Sherlock's brother" Jenkins said as he stood to shake Mycroft's hand.

"Yes, it's nice to finally meet you" Mycroft replied, polite as ever.

"You too" the man smiled as they took a seat. "I have to say, Sherlock is one of my star pupils."

Mycroft blinked in surprise for a moment. "Really?"

The chemist chuckled. "Oh yes, he has a real passion for the subject. He's always engaged in lessons, he particularly likes conducting experiments."

Mycroft smiled lightly. "Yes, our flat is full of them."

"Well he's great with his homework too and even does some extra curricular stuff. I don't think I've given him less than full marks for an assignment this term. He's set for a top grade in the summer."

Mycroft felt extremely pleased to know that someone other than him believed Sherlock was destined for greatness, that someone else saw Sherlock's intelligence as a gift and not a curse. He was also pleased to know Sherlock did have a passion, something he could really set his sights on for future careers and just having something he genuinely enjoyed.

"Well, I'm very glad to hear that" Mycroft said with a small smile. "Thank you so much for encouraging him."

"It's my job" Jenkins said with a smile on his face - not usual of someone discussing Sherlock. "You should be a very proud big brother, Mr Holmes."

"I really am" Mycroft replied honestly.

* * *

When Mycroft returned home he found Sherlock still sulking on the sofa, but the younger Holmes had at least turned on the TV.

"I simply can't be bothered with cooking tonight so I stopped on my way home and bought pizza" Mycroft said as he entered the living room and placed the two square boxes on the table.

Sherlock looked sceptical. "So, you're not going to send me to be without supper?" He asked.

Mycroft snorted lightly. "You're not a child, Sherlock. Besides, there is no need to punish you."

"Really?" Sherlock said with surprise as he sat up, but then realised his mistake and cleared his throat. "I mean...I told you, they are the incompetent ones, not me."

"Yes, and I saw that" Mycroft said as he used his hands to shoo Sherlock to one side of the sofa so he could sit down too. "Except, your chemistry professor, he's a lovely man, expects a lot from you."

Sherlock contemplated this for a moment. "Yes, he is the only one who appreciates my talents."

"Mmm...he's not the only one" Mycroft said with a soft smile and it took Sherlock a moment to realise what he meant. "You'll go far, Sherlock, no matter what you do."

"I know" Sherlock said less than modestly, but Mycroft just smirked - he knew his brother was secretly flattered.


	5. Chapter 5: Eating

**A/N: Hello my dearests, sorry I didn't update last week but i've been busy moving back to Uni (sigh) here is another somewhat unrelated chapter, I hope you enjoy it :) Some protective Sherlock for you all ;)**

**Reviews make me very happy xx**

* * *

Mycroft felt like he had been working none stop all week. It was election time and so he was extremely busy organising meetings, sorting out the campaign and generally trying to make things run as smoothly as possible. Since he was the youngest of his colleagues they all seemed to think it would be helpful (and probably funny) to really put Mycroft through his paces and give him the most time consuming jobs. Mycroft didn't complain though; he had always enjoyed a challenge.

Any breaks Mycroft got in that week where 5 minutes for a cup of tea to keep himself hydrated and then it was back to the grind. Anytime for lunch or even dinner (as he ended up working so late) had gone out the window. Sleeping hours had dramatically decreased also due to stress and worrying about making sure Sherlock was doing okay as well.

It was a Friday morning, about 6 days, Sherlock realised, since the last time Mycroft had shared a meal with him - since he last saw any kind of sustenance pass his brother's lips.

Sherlock kept strong in his belief that eating and sleeping was mostly just transport, but Mycroft mainly forced him to do both, so it was unusual for the younger Holmes to be the one who felt like he should be pushing Mycroft to just slow down and listen to his physical needs. Mycroft was usually very calm and collected so his body was not use to the strain and there was a good possibility it could all become too much.

Sherlock was sat in the kitchen eating breakfast - something he did not usually do but he hoped would evoke a subtle reminder in Mycroft - when his brother came hurrying into the room looking for something.

"I thought you were supposed to have the day off" Sherlock casually commented.

"Yes, well we were both stupid to think that would ever happen" Mycroft said as he rummaged through some drawers.

"Looking for this?" Sherlock asked as he held up Mycroft's notebook. He enjoyed a good read every now and again.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you."

The older Holmes turned to leave but stumbled when he suddenly felt light-headed and placed a hand on his stomach when a wave of nausea hit.

"Mycroft?" Sherlock had risen from his seat, the concern in his voice well hidden but in his eyes, not so much.

"I'm alright" Mycroft insisted as he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

"Maybe you should have some breakfast" Sherlock suggested "though we don't have anything sugar based so I doubt you'd be interested..."

"I don't have time" Mycroft said ignoring the jibe. "Now, clean up and get yourself to school" he said with a flippant hand wave before heading to the front door.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock called as he came hurrying after his brother.

"Yes?" The elder Holmes said absently as he pulled on his coat.

"You will be back for dinner tonight."

Mycroft paused as the words seemed to have come out more of a statement than a question. Sherlock appeared to have spotted his faux pas as he was looking down at his feet rather than his brother.

Mycroft picked up his umbrella; he had to go to work but knew he had not been the best role model that week and so thought the least he could do was try. Besides, he had no idea if Sherlock had been eating properly that week either without his watchful eye.

"Yes, I will" Mycroft said with a small smile before bustling out of the house.

* * *

Surprisingly, Mycroft returned home only half an hour or so after he should usually leave work; not perfect, but not too late either he bargained.

He had been feeling extremely tired all day, floating around the office with bags under his eyes and getting highly embarrassed when his stomach decided to growl when he was in the middle of several conversations. He had also experienced a few more dizzy spells which had at least forced him to sit down for a minute or two.

Mycroft knew he had to listen to his body's needs, but every time he tried to take a break someone else gave him something to do, and he couldn't say no if he was going to build the name for himself that he wanted. So it was probably due to sheer will power that he was still standing when he returned home.

"Well, I see you have decided to show up" Sherlock was there leaning on the living room door frame, arms folded, as soon as Mycroft closed the door.

"Of course, brother mine, I never break a promise."

Sherlock scoffed. "Yeah right, I can think of plenty of times you've..."

Mycroft smirked to himself as he hung up his coat. "Not actually getting you a real pirate ship when you were five doesn't count, Sherlock"

"Of course it does! And that's not the only time..."

He stopped when he realised how pale Mycroft had gone all of a sudden. He had a hand to his stomach like the incident that morning and was swaying on his feet.

"Mycroft?" Sherlock frowned and took an unconscious step towards his brother.

"I'm al-" but he did not finish his assurance, as Mycroft was aware of a loud ringing noise in his ears and then he fell to the ground.

"Mycroft!" he heard his brother exclaim before the world faded to black.

* * *

When Mycroft finally woke up he found the place was quite unfamiliar to him, although it did not take him long to figure out he was in a hospital bed. It was dark outside, and just from the few strips of moonlight which managed to force it's way in through the blinds, Mycroft became aware of the shadow beside him.

Sherlock sat with his feet on the chair, knees pulled up to his chest, his face covered by a book he seemed very intent on reading. He seemed to be in his own protective ball and Mycroft almost felt obliged not to disturb him, but it appeared Sherlock had already noticed he was awake as he snapped his book shut aggressively.

"You're an absolute moron" the younger Holmes stated.

"Your bedside manner really holds no bounds" Mycroft replied, but Sherlock showed no sign of amusement.

"How could you not eat for so long?" Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft frowned; wasn't this conversation supposed to be happening the other way round? Yet he was the one sat in the hospital bed with the IV drip poking into his arm.

"Apologies," he spoke lowly "things have just been so busy at work recently...I suppose I forgot."

Sherlock scoffed. "You really are a hypocrite you know, I miss one meal and you go berserk!"

"Do not exaggerate, brother mine" Mycroft sighed "and yes, I admit I have not been a role model of health lately but this was finally my opportunity to show off my skills..."

"It's not worth risking your life for" Sherlock said and for the first time their eyes met; the younger's were filled with frustration and concern, the elder's with guilt and realisation. "I've already lost mum and dad..." He didn't have to finish; Mycroft knew what he was saying.

"I will get my diet back on track, I promise" Mycroft said. "I think a break is in order."

"Yes, you have the whole week off, I spoke to your boss" Sherlock said casually.

Mycroft's eyes widened. "And I still have a job?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, I may be quite socially incompetent but I can act very well."

Mycroft smiled lightly. "I really never doubted you for a second, brother dear."


	6. Chapter 6: Cat

**A/N: Hello lovelies! So sorry this update has taken a while but I've had the urge to work on a million and one different fics recently XD Thank you so much for reading and sticking around, and I hope you enjoy this next little chapter. Apologies for issues with characterisation. **

**Reviews mean a lot to me! X**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Cat**

Sherlock shot up in his bed when he heard the clatter from downstairs. It was nearly 4 in the morning and Mycroft had come home hours ago. Ever since the elder Holmes had started his new promoted position at work he seemed a lot more tired and slept deeper, so Sherlock could only conclude that someone else was in the flat, and the only way to douse his curiosity would be to go and investigate.

The teenager pulled on his dressing gown and it flurried behind him as he moved onto the landing. The sound of things being moved and knocked around in the kitchen still echoed down the halls and Sherlock crept forward with caution.

He had to pass Mycroft's room on the way and so quickly looked in on his brother His mind eased slightly at the sight of his brother's sleeping form bobbing up and down with each breath, and then it heightened again as he now knew for sure that there was someone else in their home.

Sherlock was just around the corner of the kitchen when things suddenly went silent. The younger Holmes held his breath and pushed himself up against the wall to listen in. He and not been expecting to feel the hand which suddenly gripped onto his shoulder.

Sherlock whipped around ready to engage in whatever fighting style he had to, but stalled when he found it was only Mycroft. The older Holmes raised a finger to his lips to signal Sherlock to be quiet, and then was when Sherlock's eyes fell to Mycroft's other hand which had his fingers clasped around the handle of a gun. The younger Holmes' eyes widened; when had his brother - in his mind highly tedious brother - come to own such a thing?

Mycroft readied the gun then, holding it like any professional marksman would, his hands steady as ever; Sherlock realised with some trepidation that his brother must have done this before.

Mycroft ducked around Sherlock, striding into the doorway of the kitchen with his weapon raised. Sherlock watched as his brother frowned with some kind of confusion and the rolled his eyes before lowering the gun.

"Bloody thing!" Mycroft grumbled as he entered the kitchen, Sherlock following after him.

It turned out their intruder was nothing more than a stray black cat which had taken to licking the dirty plate Sherlock had left on the table after his dinner.

"The gun seems even more of an overreaction now" Sherlock deadpanned.

"How the hell did it get in here?" Mycroft exclaimed as he walked around the room to find the back door was open. "I'm going to check the rest of the f place. Stay here" he said with a look of warning at Sherlock before darting out of the room.

Sherlock went and sat at the table and observed the cat for a moment.

"He's more of a dog person" Sherlock spoke to the cat now. "Actually that's a lie, he hated Redbeard, but I don't mind cats either. They give about as much of a damn about what people think about them as I do, which is very little by the way."

The cat finished its plate clean up before making his way over to Sherlock and lazily sitting in the teen's lap. Sherlock smiled a little amusedly before stroking the cat's soft fur; he had always seemed to get on better with animals than humans.

"I think everything is in order" Mycroft announced as he came back into the room. The gun was still hanging loosely from his fingers.

"He's not that bad" Sherlock said.

"You're not keeping him" Mycroft said sternly. He placed the gun on the table before going over to pour a scotch to calm himself. Sherlock stared at the gun with so many questions going through his mind.

"I...it's for the new job " Mycroft said by means of explanation when he saw Sherlock looking. The elder brother sat down at the other end of the table, glass in his hand.

Sherlock frowned. "I thought you were some old fat cat politician's PA?"

"I was" Mycroft mumbled before he took a sip of his drink.

"Well then what the hell kind of promotion was it?!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Why do you need a gun? I mean you hardly have the physique to be his bodyguard..."

"I'm not," Mycroft said dully "but I'm afraid I simply cannot tell you what I do now. It's too dangerous."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You're just saying that for dramatic effect."

"I really wish I was" Mycroft mumbled as he took a large swig of his drink before getting up to pour himself another.

And then Sherlock realised. "It really could have been an intruder, couldn't it?" He asked. "That's why you came down with a gun, almost as if you were expecting someone to have broken in. This supposed promotion has created a lot of new enemies for you, hasn't it?"

"I'm afraid so" Mycroft confirmed as he sat down with his second glass.

There was no point trying to sugar-coat it; he knew Sherlock wouldn't be scared and could defend himself if necessary, but that did not stop Mycroft from believing he was putting his little brother's life in danger too.

"Then maybe I should have some kind of defence too" Sherlock suggested.

Mycroft shook his head. "No, certainly not. You do not touch this gun, and I mean it, Sherlock" he said with a sharp look; the younger Holmes just looked at the cat's back as he scratched it. "Besides, it goes everywhere with me anyway" Mycroft added.

"So now am I just supposed to wonder if our home will get broken into? If you'll actually come home every day?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft looked up at his brother then instead of at the liquid swaying about in front of him.

"Believe me; I have the same thought about you. But don't fret, we are at no real risk, the gun is just a precaution."

Sherlock did not entirely believe his brother, but Mycroft was clearly exhausted so they would talk about it later. Instead, Sherlock turned his attention back to the feline which was now rubbing it's head against his chest.

"I think I'll stick with the pirate themed names..." Sherlock mused.

"Why bother naming him? Like I said, you're not keeping him..."

"I know, but he might continue to visit" Sherlock said. "Bellamy, after Black "Sam" Bellamy, the richest recorded pirate in history."

"You know I really thought you'd grown out of the pirate stuff" Mycroft said with an amused smile.

"No, not really" Sherlock said. "Besides, you still owe me a pirate ship" he added seriously.

Mycroft just rolled his eyes.


End file.
